Unexpected Second Chance
by shadowedcrossroads
Summary: Despite wishing to turn over a new leaf in College, Jinta cannot abandon his memories of Meiko. Unable to cope, her phantom reappears. Could this give Jinta the closure he needs to finally heal and move on? Regardless, as Meiko soon discovers, the best of intentions can do the most damage to a lonely soul.
1. Chapter 1

Unexpected second chance

**Summary:** Despite wishing to turn over a new leaf in College, Jinta cannot abandon his memories of Meiko. Unable to cope, her phantom re-appears. Could this give Jinta the closure he needs to finally heal and move on? Regardless, as Meiko soon discovers, the best of intentions can do the most damage to a lonely soul.

**Pairing**: Jinta x Meiko

**Warning**: angst

Having recently moved in to his new College dorm, Jinta was still struggling to get used to his new room. For the third time that night, he jarred his hip on the corner of his desk and cursed. His body was still programmed to navigate his bedroom back at home.

Living in a brand new city, and barely nineteen years old, Jinta felt out of place. It was safe to say that he knew nobody here, and while family was merely a phone call away, the distance hurt more than he had imagined. It was now impossible to wander downstairs and help himself to a midnight snack, or to lounge around with the TV on in the early hours of the morning if insomnia hit him like it used to.

Jinta had been thrust in to this new world completely blind. With only his course in agriculture and civil engineering as any sort of direction, he feared that if he didn't find some kind of _meaning_ soon, he would fall on his face before the year was up - literally and metaphorically.

It was close to midnight by the time he remembered to cook up some dinner. A steaming cup of instant noodles permeated his cramped room with the smell of chicken and vegetables. Tapping away at his laptop, Jinta waited for it to cool while opening up an email he had received from Anjou earlier that week.

According to the email, she had just transferred to a University about forty-five minutes away, and that was by train alone. Shoulders slumping as he read of how excited Anjou was, starting her life as an adult finally, Jinta slurped at his ramen in silence. Without much money to splurge on except his own earnings and some money his father would send him each month, Jinta had decided to keep things simple. All he really needed was the internet, a working phone and enough left over to make sure his fridge never ran out.

Out of nowhere, his phone rang and he dropped his hand as scalding noodles splattered on to his arm and tipped on to the floor.

"Christ!" He hissed, grabbing a paper towel to dab at his arm. The angry vibrations his phone was making on his desk reminded Jinta that he was yet to pick up and he worked faster. After clearing up the mess on the floor as quickly as he could, he went for the phone.

Swiping his thumb across the screen, he asked, "Who is it?"

Surprised, he heard his father's voice on the other end.

"So you _are _alive. I've been calling for hours you lazy arse of a son. There's been a terrible monsoon that's hit us. It's such a pain to get groceries now. But are you doing alright son? You'd better not be eating any of that processed crap. Do you have enough to keep you warm through the winter too?"

He smiled at his father's concerned tone and wished he could be there to jostle the old man out of the way and prepare a good dinner for them both to eat, just like old times. Even toss in a joke or two.

"We've got some thunderclouds overhead but so far everything is alright. I'm glad the electricity is still working for you, that's usually first to go. Have you been able to catch up with the Honma's at all recently?"

There was silence down the other side of the phone for a long time. As Jinta waited, his stomach began to clench and tense spasmodically. Not wanting to rush his father, he began to pace until he couldn't take it anymore. He ventured again, "Dad, what's the matter with the Honma's? Has anything happened?"

His father cleared his throat awkwardly on the other end of the line. The reception was beginning to crackle and hiss. The monsoon must be getting worse. Biting his lip, Jinta strained to hear his father's distorted words.

"It's Satoshi. I heard – Irene says he's not coping – could be a phase – Meiko was his only sibling-"

Jinta sucked on his teeth as a chunk of his father's words were cut off, "I didn't catch one part of that. Reception is bad. What's the matter with Satoshi?"

The call cleared up momentarily, which only served to make his father's words all the more crippling, "He's telling Irene that he can still see her. Meiko. He says she's still here with us."

As the words were spoken, Jinta's blood thickened in his veins and began to pound harder in his ears, dulling out his father's voice. Letting his back thump against the wall, he slid to the floor, his legs trembling with an indescribable feeling. He couldn't tell if it was disbelief, anxiety, fear or a mixture of everything.

His father seemed to sense the distress in his son and called out his name, but the line went dead before he could answer. The lights in the room flickered and a clap of thunder shook the window panes. Letting his phone clatter to the floor, Jinta curled in to a ball, bringing his knees up to his chest.

How long had it been since he had allowed himself to think of her? To imagine that silky hair and those gentle, soft blue eyes? When was the last time he had even remembered the way she spoke?

"M-Menma…" he croaked. His eyes were steadily growing heavy with the promise of hot, thick tears. No matter how long he let the matter lie, if Jinta dared think back to that time all those years ago, the pain lacerated his heart mercilessly. She had been crying that day, they all had been. Their final goodbyes had seemed to give everybody else the closure they needed, but time was still frozen for Jinta.

No matter what he had thought, or what kind of closure he had been granted, he had wallowed in the memory of Menma. Allowed her to flourish and blossom in his mind and heart until it strangled him. After all, they had spent so long together that summer, how could he move on so easily?

The loneliness ate at him, gnawing at his insides like an angry beast that had been crudely awoken from its slumber. So sure he had buried this agony deep inside long ago, the pain was unexpected, violent, cruel. He wasn't prepared for it and soon he was hyperventilating, memories flooding back to him. Passing gestures, whispered words, snapshot memories of a simpler time, a happier time. They hit him one after the other until he lost his breath.

"_Menma_-" Jinta cried out hoarsely. His hands were buried in his shaggy dark hair, tugging roughly at the locks, as if the physical pain could somehow erase the emotional guilt he still felt. Was she appearing before her brother wishing to find him again? What would she do if she discovered he had moved far away? Surely that would make her sad. It'd make Menma lonely, even make her cry.

Or maybe this time, she was guiding her brother - nurturing his broken heart until he could say goodbye to his sister. Did she think Jinta didn't need her anymore? That he had moved on and didn't wish to see her?

"I miss you. I want to see you, talk to you, hear your voice. Menma, come back. _Please_, why won't you come back?"

Letting the tears spill over, fat droplets splashed on to the floor. His wrists became wet from the tears that were pooling in his hands. Now he had begun to cry again, he couldn't hold the tears back. It had been years since he had last cried, and every time he had been alone when the floodgates opened. There had been nobody there to brush aside his hair, or to hold him tightly as the sobs shook his body.

Nothing except...

That one small hand which had reached out and caressed his cheek, tenderly.

Her face blazed in his mind, causing a hot flash to spread across his entire body, right down to his fingertips. It was too much. He couldn't cope with this. He couldn't manage this pain, nor lock it away and keep it buried in the furthest corners of his mind. She would always be there; she would always be waiting for his guard to drop.

"_Jintan."_

The quiet, muffled voice drifted through the air like a light breeze. The air seemed to stroke his face gently, as if his name spoken held some kind of weight.

Wait..._Jintan_?

Snapping his head up, vision still blurred and out of focus, Jinta almost thought he must have been hallucinating when he saw that familiar form in front of him. It had been years and yet she was still the same. Granted she looked taller and if he looked as hard as his tear stained eyes would allow, she even appeared older, it was still _her._

Menma.

"This isn't possible. You can't be…you _left. _You disappeared! You moved on! You _left us_!" Jinta wailed, shaking his head back and forth rapidly, refusing to let the apparition before him delude him that his childhood sweetheart was indeed stood before him.

"_Jintan, it _is_ me. I could hear you. Your heart, I heard it crying, screaming. Just like my brother's."_

After swallowing the dry lump in his throat, Jinta found his voice, "But you shouldn't _be here_. You were already a ghost, how can you come back again?"

She smiled and ducked her head. As he wiped his eyes, her image smeared then refocused. Her hair was even longer now, face more angular and sculpted. While her figure was still slender and willowy, those blue eyes still carried their childish kindness he had fallen in love with all those lifetimes ago.

"_It's complicated. I couldn't be reborn yet...so I chose to look over you all for a bit longer. I was going to leave soon, to complete the last stage but...I can't leave when you're like this."_

"What about your brother? He needs you more than I do. I…I already took you from him back then, when he couldn't see you. I can't do that again."

Shaking her head, anguish coloured her ethereal face. A faint white glow was radiating from her skin, making Meiko seem even less real. Jinta wanted to reach out to touch her, but feared she might vanish if he did.

"_I can't go to him. What he saw was indeed me, but I cannot interfere. If I stay with him, he will only deny my death more. My brother has closure, but not acceptance. My absence is all I can offer him."_

When Jinta believed he could stand without his legs quivering, he got to his feet. He wasn't able to stand up fully, and his arms shook slightly but it was good enough. He looked Meiko in the eyes and asked the only question that he felt he could:

"So why is it only me, just like last time?"

Another smile, except this time it was a timid one. As a child Meiko had always been unsure of herself, never quite confident with how she conveyed herself. He could tell she was searching for the exact right words. The words she meant right from the heart.

"_Because you were the boy who always waited and never gave up. Now it's Menma's turn to make your wishes come true. It's Menma's turn this time, Jintan."_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary:** Despite wishing to turn over a new leaf in College, Jinta cannot abandon his memories of Meiko. Unable to cope, her phantom re-appears. Could this give Jinta the closure he needs to finally heal and move on? Regardless, as Meiko soon discovers, the best of intentions can do the most damage to a lonely soul.

**Pairing**: Jinta x Meiko

**Warning**: angst

"Jinta, you have to understand why we keep calling you here like this."

Fists quivering and shoulders trembling with anger, Jinta spun on his heel to stare the elderly woman in the face. She had a kind face, and her eyes looked perturbed by his violence. In a fit of frustration, he had picked up her coffee mug and flung it across the room, glad to hear it smash into pieces. The muddy brown stain on the wall would surely take hours to clean off.

He didn't care. He was incredibly vexed.

It wasn't any sort of grudge he had for the psychiatrist. She looked as if she really did care for him and his wellbeing. The only problem was he didn't wish for her help. Contrary to belief, he knew what was real when he saw it. That summer all those years ago had been proof enough. There had been many an occasion where he'd thought maybe he'd gone mad, deranged by the memory of Meiko. Nobody else could see her except him. Nobody could touch her, feel her breath on their cheek when she leaned close, listen to her complaints when she would stumble down the stairs and stub her toe.

It was as though he had conjured a phantom of her to cope with her death. A phantom that was convinced they were real. It should have been enough to drive anybody over the edge in to insanity.

His father had caught him on several occasions, midway through a hushed conversation with Menma, or stuck in the middle of a wrestle to grab the controller for their game console. As any father would, he had spoken to his son about what was causing the strange behaviour then cast him off to a psychiatrist. Jinta couldn't blame the old man one bit. After his mum had passed away, Jinta imagined his dad had gone through unimaginable loneliness and sorrow.

You never truly forget someone you love either; you simply learn to cope in their absence and continue on in day to day life. Knowing how close Jinta had been to Meiko, it was only natural he fear his son might be delusional and coping with her death unhealthily.

But what his father and this woman were unaware of was that Meiko was _real._ No matter what they said, or what hypotheses they shot at him, she was _there _and she couldn't move on until whatever wish was hidden inside Jinta's clogged up brain was fulfilled. Even thinking that made him angry, mostly with himself. Here he was, keeping her here subconsciously, driven by a desire that he couldn't describe, much less wish upon.

However, these weekly meetings with Dr Takada kept his father content and allowed Jinta to study so far away from home. She had been referred to him from their psychiatrist back home, so Jinta knew there was no way he could get out of it. Thus, he had put up with the intrusive questions and kept a diary of his daily life, monitoring his dreams, feelings and thoughts if ever Meiko crossed his mind. He was a little embarrassed that every month, he would have at least two more pages to present to Dr Takada.

But this time, it was different. Meiko was back and suddenly those pages were filling up more and more, out of habit more than necessity. He had to will himself not to write certain parts of his day down, just so he could maintain some kind of privacy. In a way, he would jot down these thoughts so as to make all that was happening somehow more real. Otherwise, he feared he might wake up one morning to find she had vanished again, but this time for good. If that were to happen, then this ratty old diary that he held in his clenched hands would be all he had left.

Consequently, there was no way he was going to let Dr Takada see it. Adamant that she would read it, Dr Takada had reached forward to take it from Jinta's unwilling hands. In a panicked frenzy, he had grabbed the mug and thrown it against the wall to distract her. This led us back to where he stood right now.

His back was the old woman, and he felt ashamed of himself. Control and maturity were qualities he was supposed to possess and be able to use at will, especially when he needed them most. Instead, at the slightest touch, he had lashed out just as he had as a child. It was a primal instinct of him, one he was far from proud of. The death of his mother and Meiko's soon after had left him feeling empty and betrayed as a child. Everyone he loved seemed to abandon him for death, to the point where he removed himself from society. He was terrified that anything he cared for might die if he kept too close.

Of course he refused to say any of this to Dr Takada. They were problems he had come to terms with long ago. They did not need to be revisited and analysed by a third party.

"L-Look," he stammered, "I'm sorry about the mug. I-I'll replace it, I promise. I just p-panicked. Please, let me have _some_ kind of privacy Doctor."

Takada sighed and relaxed in her easy chair, taking off her glasses to rub her eyes.

"Jinta-kun, I'm not trying to impose on your life and force you to divulge anything that you don't want to tell me. But you must know something."

Her tone worried him, and he eyed her warily. It was that tone adults used when they had news they knew you weren't going to like hearing.

She took a breath and said wearily, "classmates have been complaining about you talking all day and night to nobody. They can hear it through the walls and are becoming increasingly distressed by it. You don't seem to be making any progress Jinta. If anything, you seem to be regressing back to the state you were in when I first met you."

She trailed off for a moment to let him digest the information. Already he could tell that the direction this conversation was taking wasn't good. Not good at all.

Noticing he wasn't going to make any comment in his defence, Dr Takada continued, "What I'm trying to say Jinta…I'm sorry there's no kind way to put this so I will have to be blunt. Your grades are suffering and your teachers report you fall asleep in class almost daily. If this keeps up any longer, you'll be asked to vacate the dorm and return home until your mental health stabilises."

She tried to smile apologetically and added gently, "On a whole, the pastoral team believes it isn't healthy to keep you working with this kind of workload. It's in your best interest. This is of course, unless we see an improvement in your grades in the coming month. Do you understand?"

It was midnight now. It had been five hours since his meeting with Dr Takada and the decision had been made that unless his grades increased significantly, their meetings would become daily. What's more, if she received any further complaints from fellow dorm-mates, he would be discharged and told to take time off school to recuperate.

As if he had some kind of mental disease. As if he were a fragile deranged soul on the brink of cracking. It was enough to make him scrunch up the letter he was writing his father and toss it in to the bin can before kicking it over. He was so sick and tired of this. Sick of nobody listening, fed up with nobody giving him a chance to explain or understand. Most of all, he was so tired of feeling unfulfilled. To Jinta, there was something missing in his life. No matter what kind of hobby he filled his time with, or how much studying he did, that hole would always remain, gnawing at him, and reminding him that until he found the cure for it, he would never move forward.

Until Meiko finally moved on, and his wish (whatever it could be) was made reality, Jinta knew that this cycle would never end. He would never find closure; he would never be given the peace his friends had acquired.

Out of nowhere, a warm pale hand touched his tense shoulder. Startled, Jinta shrank back and snapped at her, "Get your hands off me. Just _stop_ touching me!"

When he came to his senses a moment later, he immediately regretted his words. It was out of line to pass the blame to Meiko and vent his frustrations on her. He looked at her pained face, those blue eyes that could only hold his for a moment before ducking down to the floor. Her hair hung in front of her small, delicate face, obscuring her features.

"_I'm sorry Jintan. I meant to help you, to give you comfort and solace. But I'm making things harder aren't I? That lady, she wants you to leave, doesn't she?"_

Jintan bit his lip and curled his hands in to fists. His nails bit in to his palms, the sharp sting of skin breaking giving him some kind of clarity from the mental noise that was streaming through his head.

He stood there for three heartbeats, not saying a word. He couldn't bear to answer her.

"_Jintan? Please, tell Menma what's wrong. You're scaring me." _

Meiko reached out her hand, slower this time. She was inches away from his cheek before he recoiled and went to grab his coat. He tugged it on and pulled the hood up, stalking towards the door. He had barely gotten his shoes on before he turned to her and mumbled shamefully, "I can't be near you right now Menma. I need to get my thoughts together before I say anything else to hurt you. Please don't wait for me tonight."

With that, he turned the door-handle and disappeared down the hallway, letting the door click shut in a hollow, lonely _thunk_.


	3. Chapter 3

Summary: Despite wishing to turn over a new leaf in College, Jinta cannot abandon his memories of Meiko. Unable to cope, her phantom re-appears. Could this give Jinta the closure he needs to finally heal and move on? Regardless, as Meiko soon discovers, the best of intentions can do the most damage to a lonely soul.

Pairing: Jinta x Meiko

Warning: angst and triggering themes. Discretion is advised.

Jintan had no idea where he was heading, and made sure to take no notice of the places he was passing by. All that was on his mind right now was letting himself get lost in the city. All he wanted to focus on was the sound of his sneakers making a dull wet sound on the pavestones, the rain dampening his hair.

He needed a way to hush his thoughts and find some inner peace before he could think things through logically. Right now all he could gather together was his unease and that weightless feeling you have when you're left suspended in space. One false move would make the rope holding him up snap and all that lay beneath was an empty black chasm leading to god knew where. He had fallen into it once before, he had no intentions of revisiting it. Who knew if the hard worn path out of it still existed? Being lost in that blackish hell was not an option, not this time around. When you're adult you don't have time to feel sorry for yourself, to feel lonely or be confused about what to do. You're supposed to know what to do, where to go, how to handle things.

So why was Jintan groping at straws. Why was he wandering the busy streets of this foreign city so late at night? Seeking out guidance seemed to be out of the question; all arrows would point in the same direction, and he refused to be sent back home. He'd worked too hard to get this far and turn tail within the first semester.

As the rain began to pick up and soak him through, Jintan shifted his thoughts elsewhere and searched for a café, or any sort of cover from the downpour. Eventually he came across an open bistro and dived in, shaking himself off in the entryway. He flushed at a few irritated _tsks _he heard from the side – he must have shaken some of the water off onto an unsuspecting customer. Oops.

Much to his dismay, Jintan couldn't see any open tables and cursed. At this rate, one of the waiters would have to ask him to leave. With this awful weather, there was no way there'd be any customers willing to budge until the storm front had passed.

Before he could turn away from the bartenders apologetic face (it was as if the elderly man had read his mind), he heard a familiar voice call out to him.

"Jinta! Over here!"

Craning his neck around a bulging coat rack, Jintan noticed the familiar red-head from his childhood waving her hand wildly, beckoning him towards her.

"Anaru! it's been a while. I just read your email today," Jintan mumbled conversationally as he sat down next to her. Typical of her teenage habits, Anaru had chosen a seat by the window, giving her full visibility of the street outside. Not that there was much to see; the sidewalk was hardly visible thanks to a broken streetlamp which could shed nothing but darkness on the wet cobblestones.

She smiled and pushed a steaming mug of coffee towards him, "you can say that again. Still the same slacker as always I see. I sent that email to you weeks ago! Geez, you really need to check up on things more often Jinta. Imagine if something important had happene—hey what's wrong?"

Her tone had been light-hearted at first, but now it took on a concerned lilt. Jintan's expression had soured and she worried momentarily if she'd said something wrong.

What had perturbed Jintan the most was how spot on she was. He had gotten completely immersed in his own personal life, to the point where nobody else could get inside. For all he knew, friends back at home that now lived elsewhere like Anaru could have been banging on the walls he'd put up, trying to get in. Given how self-absorbed he had been, their calls for attention would've fallen on worse than deaf ears.

It seemed melodramatic when he put it that way and realistically in the grand scheme of things it wasn't a major problem, but to think he hadn't noticed up until now was chilling. What happened if this happened again but for a period of a year or longer?

A warm hand touched his arm and jolted Jintan out of his stupor. He physically bristled and straightened up, shaking his head to clear the fog.

"Sorry what were you saying? I tuned out."

Anaru raised her eyebrows and made a face, "you can say that again. You looked so far away I wondered if you were even 'here'. C'mon Jinta, what's the matter? I've known you since we were in crappy looking sandals and straw sunhats, what's on your mind?"

To admit to everything or shrug it off and blame his behaviour on college stress like anybody else.

He snuck a glance at Anaru to see whether she looked to be in a particularly open-minded mood that evening. Her eyes reflected little else but concern and heartfelt compassion for the young man. It was a comforting thought, remembering that she was one of the first people to believe him about Menma. Naturally she'd doubted him at first, who wouldn't have? But Anaru had this wonderful ability to trust people wholeheartedly, and once you gained her trust, it was not easily lost, no matter how ridiculous things could get. She was loyal to a fault.

It was that loyalty Jintan hoped would serve him well for what he was about to say.

"Anaru," he took a breath, surprised at how fast his heart rate had become in the past second, the nerves were kicking in and his left leg began to bounce up and down habitually.

"Yes…? Jinta what's wrong, tell me _please._"

"It's just that, I'm scared you won't believe me, like everybody else. It's impossible but, Menma, she came back."

There was silence for a short while before he heard the whisper, "are you completely sure?"

Jintan set his jaw and looked at her straight on, eyes steeled. Anaru swallowed and ducked her head, hands clasped tightly in her lap. She was picking at her painted thumbnail, a habit she'd picked up at as a child.

"I'm sorry, of course you would be certain. My only concern was that maybe you had…I don't know…"

Jintan narrowed his eyes, "what, had a nervous breakdown, is that what you want to say?"

She looked up quickly and shook her head, and much to his surprise, Jintan noticed there were tears filming her warm eyes. Already the rims of her eyes were reddening, and from that he could tell this wasn't the first time she had cried today. He knew the tell-tale signs. No amount of make-up could cover up red eyes once the crying started up again.

Something was most certainly wrong. Scooting closer to her on his stool, Jintan leant closer to her, leaving them cooped up in the corner of the café. It gave a false illusion of privacy and while it wasn't much, he hoped it was enough to coax Anaru into being honest with him. Under other circumstances, he would take her outside on a walk somewhere, but given the weather, such consideration wasn't really an option.

"Anaru, there's something bothering you as well, I can tell. Tell me, in all this time that I've been gone, what's happened? Why do you look so sad? Your eyes just now, they weren't the eyes I remember from the old days. Something's changed about you."

She didn't answer and only shook her head. The muscles in her mouth were pulling down, causing her chin to quiver. It tugged at Jintan's heartstrings and he reached out to put a hand over the top of hers, but stopped himself. He could see the quiver in his own hand and knew that wouldn't help her. She had to think he was strong right now, something to lean on. Letting her know he was as shaken up as she was, he'd get nothing out of her.

"There's some kind of weight you're carrying I know it. Anaru please, I wish I had been around to help you through whatever struggles you've dealt with these past few years. Let me help, now that I'm _here_. Trust me to not abandon you. Not this time."

With those words, she looked up at him with a flickering hint of fire in her eyes. Tears were flowing freely by this point, but there was steeliness in her posture that dared him to step the boundary one more time.

"Where have you been all this time Jinta? You vanished without a word, not a single email, or even a phone call saying goodbye. The only way _any _of us could get some peace of mind was hearing reports from your dad. Were you avoiding us? Too ashamed of your _damaged_ _childhood friends_ to want to keep in touch with us are you?"

Jintan stared at her incredulously. Was that really what she thought of him? What all of them had thought of him all this time? He wanted to be furious and storm out barking about how she had no idea what she was talking about.

Then it struck him.

Of course she wouldn't, any idiot with two functioning eye balls could see that.

Shoulders slumping in defeat, he mumbled miserably, "I'm sorry Anaru. It's been unfair on all of you, and even if my life was a hellish mess of therapy and trying to work out what Menma wanted, I should've kept you in the loop. All of you for that matter."

Anaru looked down at her hands and said in a voice so small the rain outside almost drowned it out.

"I haven't been honest either. My…my parents died in an accident four months ago."

As the news sank in, a clap of thunder resounded in the sky overhead and the café windows shuddered from the quake. Moments afterward, another bolt of lightning laced the black clouds, making Anaru's face look ghostly white. She was beautiful, a burning fire whose flame had always enticed Jintan to stare for hours, wishing he could work out the source of that spark. Right now it seemed so dim he thought it might vanish with the next clap of nature's thunderous wrath.

She wringed her hands together and went on, "Since then, I made some bad decisions. And some really dumb choices. I was so lost Jinta, it was frightening beyond belief."

Only then did he take notice of how tightly she was clutching her right sleeve. Anaru's milky skin strained white from her tense knuckles. Her left sleeve was pushed up slightly though, and even in the dim light, he could see the faint pink lines that traced her inner arm.

Regret and bitter helplessness gripped his heart and wrapped his stomach into knots. How had he not seen this, how had he not noticed how much she must have been calling out? They say those hurting the most make the least sound but surely he should have realised something was wrong.

"Anaru, you—"

Before he could choke out the rest, she stood up, grabbed her satchel quickly and weaved around him to walk out the door. He winced at the booming sound of another thunder clap and looked outside, searching for her in vain. There was no catching her in this awful weather and it would be reckless to run around and risk getting hurt or lost.

About to get up himself, Jintan went to gather his things together before he left and noticed something on the table. She had left a few notes beside her coffee, and a single note that looked weather worn and creased from being folded up and crammed away repeatedly.

With a heavy heart, Jinta picked it up and read the crumpled piece of paper, treating it gently lest it fall apart.

"_The world walks beside you and is silent. _

_It does not comfort you on lonely nights, _

_Carry you through hardship or trip you. _

_It is not a cruel place; it is what we make it to be. _

_Eyes will not judge you, _

_But tongues will speak convenient lies and unhappy truths._

_Walk the right path, not the easy one_

_Survival of the bravest."_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary:** Despite wishing to turn over a new leaf in College, Jinta cannot abandon his memories of Meiko. Unable to cope, her phantom reappears. Could this give Jinta the closure he needs to finally heal and move on? Regardless, as Meiko soon discovers, the best of intentions can do the most damage to a lonely soul.

**Pairing**: Jinta x Meiko

**Warning**: angst and triggering themes. Discretion is advised.

Ironically, the storm let up almost as soon as Jinta had turned the lock to secure himself back inside his dorm room. It was a bit disconcerting actually. Everything up until now had taken place during those few thunderous hours, so where was he left now? It was peculiar, thinking that a change in weather could leave you feeling so uneasy. Did this break in the clouds mean he had to come to some kind of conclusion about the day's events and find answers to all these questions streaming through his head faster than rain pellets?

He rested his damp forehead against the door, the cool woodwork soothing him. He cursed softly beneath his breath and kicked off his scuffed shoes. What was it with things all happening in one cluster of events. It was as if life had to avalanche him with choices and problems in one go, all thanks to one domino tumbling over, setting off the rest to come crashing through into his life until all that was left was dusty rubble.

At this point he had to assume everything had reached a moot point. Now was the time whatever damage had been done and rebuild it. But where was he supposed to start. Jinta supposed he could make a list of things, but where would that get him? He knew all too well that doing such a thing would only give him a panic attack given what he had to handle right now. There was Anaru to consider, his grades, own mental health, juggling his professors and the hawk-eye of his therapist and then there was the dilemma with Menma's brother.

_Menma…_

Just her name alone left a hollow feeling in his chest. As much as he cared for her, why did her appearance always seem to lead to these snowball events that left him so out of his depth?

There was no way Jinta would fall so low into his own despair as to blame Menma for any of this, but he had to admit that her presence was a catalyst for these sorts of things.

"_Goddamnit!_" he exclaimed angrily, pounding his fist on the door frame. _I'm getting nowhere by standing here thinking about this. Get it together Jinta. Think. THINK._

Just as he was about to think himself into a migraine, there was a soft '_kah-thunk_' noise from the kitchen. The repetitive noise was familiar, and as Jinta inched closer, he realised it was somebody cutting up vegetables.

Hovering by the entryway of the kitchen, he leant against the doorframe and watched as Menma obliviously bustled around putting together what smelt like delicious chicken minestrone.

The domestic scene in front of him was such a bittersweet reminder of childhood and how his mother used to glide through the kitchen, completely aware of where everything was and where she had last used it. Menma on the other hand, was a little less familiar with the placings of certain things in this foreign kitchen of Jinta's, stopping every few minutes to put a ladle to her forehead - no doubt covered in the soup broth - to ponder over where the next thing she was looking for might be kept.

Smiling to himself, Jinta peeled himself off the doorframe and stepped forward, making sure his footsteps made the floorboards creak so Menma would notice he was there.

"Need help finding something?" he ventured.

Menma spun around, completely surprised by Jinta's sudden appearance and let out a yelp as she lost her footing and tripped herself up. Before Jinta could extend a hand to catch her, Menma had landed on the floor butt-first, the ladle still held tightly in her hand. He was right, there was a streak of minestrone broth across her forehead. It was kind of adorable; it was like Menma to have little reminders of her hard work strewn across her body, little memories of the tasks she had been doing.

She was rubbing her sore rump and made that face he loved where her nose was scrunched up, mouth exaggeratedly turned down at the corners.

Stopping to laugh for a few moments, he finally pulled her up by the arm and pulled down his sleeve over his hand to wipe at the sauce on her forehead.

"You really are hopeless, even at this age. What am I going to do about you eh?"

He meant it light-heartedly,but at that moment Menma's eyes widened with shock, her eyebrows turning upwards worriedly. Out of the corner of his eye, Jinta noticed something a little more urgent though.

"Crap the soup's boiling over!"

Dashing to switch off the heat and slam the lid down on the frothing. Dumb thing was, Jinta didn't take notice of how scaldingly hot the handle was of the lid and kept his hand there too long.

With a cry of pain, he wrenched back his hand, blowing on it insistently. Hot, burning, swelling, aching, burning. Hot, cold, frozen, frozen with heat.

"Jinta put it under cold water!" Menma cried, grabbing his wrist and turning the tap on the coldest setting, shoving his hand under the freezing stream.

Hissing in pain, Jinta made a move to snatch his hand back, but Menma's grip was surprisingly strong. She stood there, so close that he could smell the scent of her shampoo (the eerie thing was, it was the shampoo she had used as a child; the memory of it made his heart drop into his stomach) and feel her small back pressing into his side.

Minutes passed by and all the while she was staring intently at his hand, checking it over time and time again for any signs of severe burning or the suggestion of heat blisters.

Satisfied that the cold water had done its job, she let go of his wrist and stepped back immediately, hanging her head embarrassedly, looking sheepish and meek. Jinta could tell without having a direct view of her face that she would be gnawing on her bottom lip, eyebrows creased together, two little indents deepening her otherwise unlined brow.

With a light chuckle, he ducked his hand under her now overly-long bangs and pressed the pad of his thumb against her forehead, smoothing out the two little wrinkles, "come on now, I don't want you wrinkling before your time. You should have laughter lines, not grumpy lines."

Menma stepped back, putting both hands to her forehead, just where Jinta's thumb had been a moment ago. A light blush spread across her cheeks and her eyes were travelling everywhere, searching for something to focus on. Eventually she settled on the floor and mumbled, "But there's so much to think about that when I'm left alone I can't help but look like this..."

At that, Jinta's expression turned a little grim as well. Of course; when he had run out in a fit of desperation and anger, he had inadvertently left her here alone to brood over what had happened between them. Menma might be clued in on what was going on thanks to her all-seeing ghost eyes, but she hadn't specifically _lived _their lives. She knew the small details she'd picked up from the people she had watched over. Of course she wouldn't entirely understand the consequences of her well-intended actions or comprehend why the methods they'd used back as teenagers would be useless this time.

He had to be more patient and less self-serving. Just like last time, this was not all about him. If something as miraculous as your deceased friends apparition could make a second appearance in your life, you should call upon the lessons you learnt in your first encounter right?

That was exactly what Jinta hadn't done. As always, he had assumed that Menma was here for him and him _only. _Whilst that was what she had said, he knew deep down that the solution to this whole conundrum lay in their group of friends again and immediate family. His wish - whatever it might be - did link to her and it _was _his alone, but there was no doubt that it probably had something to do with everybody else. So that meant, he had to work on the relations he had with his family, Menma's family, and once again: his childhood friends. He had once again, abandoned them when life got too complex for him; he had grown selfish and looked out only for himself. Cutting people off to make the burden easier on yourself and not feel the responsibility of friendship was a cowardly thing to do and yet he'd committed that despicable act twice now.

Perhaps with this extra chance, he could finally put that right.

That change in his outlook on life would begin with Anaru. After what he'd seen of her today, and the crumpled up poem she had left behind, he felt like she needed his help most urgently.

"Menma," he began, taking her hand and leading her out of the kitchen. The soup was simmering away, the heat off now; one problem solved.

He sat her down on the couch and crouched in front of her, this way he had to look up at her. He knew that made her feel calmer, even though at this age, she had really shot up, so it almost didn't work.

She regarded him warily, her eyes brighter than usual; a giveaway that if he didn't pick his words carefully, it'd turn into a full scale crying fit.

He smiled lopsidedly and scratched his temple, ruffling his hand while doing so.

"I wasn't fair to you earlier in the evening. I can't find the right words to apologise enough. It was unjustified to pin all the blame on you like I did. While I was out, I bumped into Anaru and I realised this while talking to her." He took a breath and his shoulders shook a little. His breathing was light and shallow, remembering those light white lines that had laced her skin. What was that burning feeling he felt in his gut after seeing that? He had never had siblings so he had no idea what to call this feeling. Maybe it was a fierce need to protect? No, it went deeper than that. But he pushed it to one side and forced the words out.

"She's not doing well, and I never noticed. She handled so much on her own, without me by her side and fought all these battles alone. After you left, I chose the cowards way out. All that I had learnt from you in that year was wasted because I gave in to my fears. I gave in to my loneliness and abandoned my friends, friends who not once left my side. I could barely reply to emails from them."

Menma watched him say all this with a pained expression, her long hair giving off a calming aura, making her look even more like an angel while he admitted all this. Those vibrant blue eyes and glossy silver hair made her seem so ethereal; she really was beautiful. To snatch away such a bright light as this at such a young age; death really was a cruel devil.

Struggling on, he continued quietly, "But once again, a bastard like me, got another chance. Within this short amount of time, you're teaching and bettering me all over again. You're saving me again Menma. And now that you've opened my eyes and stopped me drowning, I've realised that there's somebody who needs saving this time - and I want to be the one to do it. Maybe you can't help, but I wanted to say that without you, I never would have noticed, I never would have realised that this wonderful, lonely girl had been clinging to a rock in the rapids. When you're drowning, you don't realise that there might be others who are suffering as well; but being with you, forced me to notice. You woke me up Menma. Thank you, my precious Menma, my phantom-sweetheart."

Feeling beyond mortified at what he'd just said, Jinta leaned up, brushing away Menma's bangs and gave her a light kiss on the forehead.

She smiled and looked down at their hands and squeezes his back, her eyes brighter still, the whites becoming slightly bloodshot as she held back tears.

"you're finally begin to change and move again Jinta. I'm so happy, you're not going to stand still anymore. I...I didn't want you being left behind, looking back at me, because I'm always stuck, I can never move. So..I wanted..." she breath hitched and tears fell freely, thick and fast from being held back so long, "I wanted you to be happy and love somebody else. I'm gone, I can't give you happiness. All I wanted was to see you smile, even if it was in the arms of somebody else."

Beside himself with anguish for his childhood sweetheart, Jinta bundled her up in his arms and held her fast. She cried loud sobs, weeping until she was left with nothing but hiccups that echoed in his room. They were cries only he could hear, and they would stay tattooed in his memories forever. Tears of the girl he loved with everything he had, even when her life ended much too soon. Sobs of the charming, pure hearted, hard headed, stubborn and wonderful girl he would cherish the memory of until his dying days.

"Thank you Menma. I'll do you proud, I promise. I'll make us both happy; I'll put you at ease. Just you wait and see."

With that, they sat like that for hours on end, Jinta rocking back and forth gently until he was lulled to sleep, his head cradled on Menma's lap, her long hair acting like a blanket that fell gently over his back and shoulders.


End file.
